


A Tale of Two Presidents

by Singerdiva01



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:24:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1333660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singerdiva01/pseuds/Singerdiva01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They might have been lovers but Laura Roslin and Richard Adar are two very different presidents. (Warning for possible Dub-Con, written for the 2014 LJ Multi-Ship War)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of Two Presidents

The first time Laura Roslin frakked on the presidential desk was the first day of Richard Adar’s first term. 

He’d asked her to stay behind after a cabinet meeting and shoved her roughly against the mahogany surface as soon as the door closed, his erection already tenting his pants. They and his boxers were at his ankles and his hand was pushing her panties aside before she even knew what was happening. 

“Richard, dear Gods! What are you doing?”

He growled as he lifted her skirt. 

“I’m frakking you on my desk, Madame Secretary. The president’s desk, which makes me Mr. President to you now.” 

She raised her eyebrows but before she could respond he was pushing his full length inside of her. She wasn’t anywhere near ready and had to pant to keep her vision from greying out at the sudden pain. 

He obviously didn’t notice as he started breathing heavily, his strokes becoming uneven after less than a minute. 

“How does it feel to be frakked by the most powerful man in the worlds, Laura?”

She didn’t respond, focusing instead on trying to get into the rhythm and the moment. She should be into this, right?

“Come on, Laura, what’s it like to be frakked by the president?”

She threw her head back and moaned.

“Gods, so good, Mr. President.”

He eyes crossed, his mouth went slack, and he grunted his release before pulling out and stumbling backwards, grasping at a chair for balance. 

She walked unsteadily out of her first official cabinet meeting with blood and cum staining her underwear. 

Of course, by the second term, it had happened this way so many times she believed she should be honored to be chosen by the president as the woman he frakked on his very important desk.

Now President Roslin stroked the edges of her own desk, far less grand, and her nose wrinkled at the thought of doing something so intimate, so personal on the surface she used to sign death warrants and order pilots on suicide missions. 

She could never imagine coming at being called by her title while frakking a subordinate. That title, the sheer enormity of the responsibility it conveyed, weighed on her mind and body every single second of every day. It didn’t make her feel sexy. In fact, it made her feel sexless, a vessel honored to be chosen to give every ounce of her energy to serve her people. 

It was only now that she had her own presidential desk that Laura Roslin understood what a truly sick, abusive frakker Richard Adar had really been.


End file.
